


The Lion and the Mouse

by Goody



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: All Gen, Angst, Attempted Non Con, Bucky Barnes Feels, But still a good time, Cap finally shows up!, Gen, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Fitz, Hurt/Comfort, No Slash, Sorry slashers, This chapter only, Torture, Very brief and non-graphic attempted non-con, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1522574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goody/pseuds/Goody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz is captured by Hydra with no hope of escape until he meets a soldier with a familiar face and a metal arm. Can he convince the man that he’s really Bucky Barnes, or will he just end up getting them both killed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mouse

**Author's Note:**

> Begins during the Agents of Shield episode “Turn, Turn, Turn”. For any movie fans who don’t watch the show just know that Fitz is a loyal Shield techie and Garrett is a bad guy who works for Hydra. For those who do watch the show, Ward isn’t evil because I don’t need that kind of complication. 
> 
> Written because I wanted to whump Fitz and Bucky and this seemed like the best way to do it. 
> 
> Come talk to me about Fitz and Bucky feels on my Tumblr - http://00qtea.tumblr.com/

Garrett smiled to himself as he walked past Coulson and May after deeming them expendable enough to be sacrificed to the firing squad since they had refused his offer to join Hydra. He stopped in front of their final captive, an asset he was smart enough not to throw away as readily as the other two.

“As for you Agent Fitz, you’ll hold a very high rank on our tech division if you volunteer. If not, you’ll have no rank ... and a lot of pain. Of course, either way, your services will be required.”

Fitz swallowed and looked up shakily at Garret. “I’ll never work for you, for Hydra, you might as well just kill me too.”

Garrett patted his cheek condescendingly.

“Oh kid, I thought I made it clear ...” Fitz tried to pull away from his touch and grunted when Garrett’s fingers dug into the back of his neck to keep him still. 

“Garrett,” Coulson hissed, taking a half step to intervene before a cocked gun was shoved in his face, forcing him and May to watch helplessly.

Sneering, Garrett continued, practically whispering in Fitz’s ear. “... death isn’t an option for you, not with that genius brain of yours, I’m afraid you’re too valuable an asset. But if that’s how you feel we’ll find you a nice cell and some electroshock therapy for you to think it over with.”

Fitz was on the brink of hyperventilating. They were going to torture him. They were going to kill his teammates in front of him and then drag him away to be tortured for ... for who knew how long. For forever if he held his ground and refused to join them. Garrett was still in Fitz’s personal space, his gun holstered at his hip. Fitz could grab it if he moved quickly. But he wasn’t a field agent, he wouldn’t have any chance.

Oh God, Simmons, he thought suddenly. Hydra would want her too. She was just as brilliant as him and just as loyal. She would never work for Hydra, they would torture her too. He couldn’t let that happen. With no further thought he lunged for the gun, surprising no one more than himself when he got his fingers around the handle and even cleared it from the holster but Garrett had been trained by Fury himself, Fitz never stood a chance. Garrett reacted almost instantly wrapping his fingers around Fitz’s wrist, twisting and pulling up. The gun fell from his grip as he cried out in pain and then found himself face first against the computer station behind him, his right arm wrenched painfully behind his back. 

“Fitz!” Coulson shouted.

“That was a very dumb move Agent Fitz,” Garrett tsked, showing his displeasure by applying more pressure on his arm. Fitz hissed and tried to shift away but Garrett’s grip was like iron threatening to pull his joint out of the socket. “Although I gotta say, I’m impressed ya had the balls to even try it.”

“Garrett, leave him alone,” Coulson demanded.

“He’s just a kid,” added May, scowling at Garrett and the cuffs around her wrists.

“A kid with an IQ of over 200 and three PhD’s. With the proper conditioning he’ll be Hydra’s very own Tony Stark,” Garrett pointed out.

“I’m 26,” Fitz protested. “I’m not a kid.”

Garrett huffed a laugh that quickly became a put-upon sigh. “I like you son. Now, have you gotten this rebellious stage over with or can I expect you to come along quietly?”

“I’ll never work for Hydra,” Fitz repeated struggling against his grip, uncertain if he was making a promise to Garrett or himself.

“Hard way it is.” That was the only warning Fitz received before his arm was wrenched back with a sickening crack that marked his shoulder popping out of its socket. His vision went black around the edges and he was pretty sure he screamed judging by how ragged his throat felt later but that was nothing compared to the agony that radiated through his body.

“Dammit John! You’re gonna burn for this,” Coulson cursed as he watched Garrett drop Fitz to the floor where he gasped violently in pain and clutched his shoulder.

“You know how Hydra works Phil, no weakness, no leniency. I think we’ll get along much better now, won’t we Agent Fitz. Here, let me help you with that,” Garrett said as he reached out to take Fitz’s slack right arm.

“No,” Fitz mumbled, on his back and trying to scoot away but Garrett grabbed his wrist easily, pulling it up and towards him with another sickening pop. This time Fitz knew he screamed, curling into a shuddering ball on the floor when Garrett released his arm with a laugh.

“See, pops right back in, no harm no foul. Bet you won’t even have any nerve damage.”

“You bastard,” May hissed, trying to draw his attention any way she could with four guns on her and handcuffed.

“He won’t help you,” Coulson affirmed, proud of Fitz for standing up to Hydra even if he was concerned for what it meant for his future. 

Garrett shrugged. “We’ll see. And believe it or not Phil I really do feel bad about this. You’ve been a good friend and you know what, I actually don’t think I can watch you die. So ...” Garrett reached down and pulled Fitz to his feet who stood hunched over in his grasp, in too much agony to protest. “... I’m going to take this one somewhere secure. You four are free to shoot these two now, or wait until we hear about where we’re disposing bodies. It’d be easier to shoot them there than drag their corpses around. Up to you though. Come on kid, bet you want to see this even less than I do.”

Fitz looked up sharply, Garrett’s words only now cutting through the agony he was in and took in the sight of Coulson and May standing in front of a firing squad while he was pulled off to the side.

“No, you can’t,” he muttered, trying to pull away but Garrett’s grip just tightened.

“I think you’ll find that I can. Phil, it’s been an honor,” Garrett said, tipping his head as he hauled Fitz towards the door with him, purposely jarring his shoulder to keep him in pain so he wouldn’t fight back.

Coulson ignored Garrett and looked at Fitz, meeting the tech’s eye as he was dragged away. “Fitz, just hold on. We’ll find you. You hear me? We’ll find you!”

“That’s got to be the sweetest thing I ever heard,” Garrett mumbled, unmoved as they left the room. But Fitz took the words to heart and nodded. They would survive. Coulson survived anything, even a god hadn’t been able to kill him. They would find him so he just had to hold on and stay alive. 

They were at the end of the next hallway when the lights suddenly went out. 

“That doesn’t bode well.” Garrett’s words were followed by the sound of gunshots coming from down the hall and the stomping of at least half a dozen booted feet. 

“Coulson? May!” Fitz shouted, trying to go back, needing to know which direction the bullets they heard had been going in.

“Oh no you don’t. I think the wind might have stopped blowing Hydra’s way around here but you’re still a hell of a keepsake. Get moving!”

Fitz’s good arm was shoved up hard behind his back and the message was clear; if he fought back again he was going to have two dislocated shoulders. He went along, remembering Coulson’s words. They would find him. 

 

An impossible distance away May and Coulson were standing in front of a new set of armed SHIELD agents, these ones led by Victoria Hand.

“I’m not Hydra!” Coulson yelled, beyond frustrated and winded from killing two men.

“I know,” Hand replied, “we heard everything.”

Simmons broke through the guards, her gaze desperately sweeping the room. “Fitz?” She looked at the bodies then shakily up at Coulson. “Sir, where’s Fitz?”

“Garrett took him.”

“Oh my god.”

“Start searching,” Hand shouted to her men, wasting no time. “Garrett can’t be far.’

“Oh god,” Simmons said again, hands over her mouth, remembering what they had heard Garrett say before they had left to breach the room. “They’re going to torture him.”

“No, Simmons, he’ll be fine. We’re going to find him before that happens.”

One of Hand’s men approached holding out a tablet. “Ma’am, I just checked in on the hangar bay. A two-man jet took off thirty seconds ago.”

Coulson’s stomach dropped. Garrett was a pilot. “That’s them. May, get the Bus ready. Track that jet.”

“We can’t,” the man said, stopping May. “The jet was the new Whisper class.”

Hand sighed. “Our latest in stealth technology.”

“There’s no way to track it.”

Coulson looked at Simmons who half collapsed against the computer monitors and shook her head. She was a biochemist, this wasn’t her field, she had no idea how to track a SHIELD engineered stealth jet. Fitz would know. Fitz would work it out in half a minute. But Fitz was gone.

“Fitz is gone,” she muttered.

“We’ll find him,” Coulson promised. 

She wanted to believe him, but she wasn’t sure he believed it himself. 

“Fitz is gone.”

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

Fitz woke up alone in a cell with an excruciatingly sore shoulder. He was still wearing his own clothes but they had stripped away his kevlar vest, everything from his pockets and even taken his shoes. 

His cell looked old, made of plain concrete with jail-like bars, with no bed or sink, just a toilet in the corner. He wished it was more high tech. He could short circuit a forcefield or hack an electronic lock, but this damn thing took a physical key and even his brilliant mind couldn’t engineer a way to force open steel without any tools. 

Looking through the bars he could see two other cells but he couldn’t hear or see anyone else.

“Hello,” Fitz called out. No reply, no sound of movement. He was indeed alone. 

Eventually he slumped back into the corner he had woken up in, tucking his frozen toes underneath himself and resting his arm on his knees to keep it elevated and stop it throbbing. He started to think about torture. How long until they started? Hopefully longer than it took for the team to find him. 

The thoughts made him panic but he was too exhausted to do so for long and eventually felt his eyes start to close. They snapped open when he heard a door slamming closed followed by smooth heavy footsteps. Fitz was wide awake instantly and pushed himself to standing, though he remained huddled in the corner.

There were no lights in his cell, just in the hallway, which made the man who appeared at his door to be just a silhouette at first. A key slid into the lock. The door opened and a tray was placed on the ground and slid across to him. Fitz eyed it warily; it looked like a bottle of water and a sandwich, maybe chicken.

“Eat,” the man said and though it was clearly an order it lacked aggression. 

“I’m not hungry, thanks.” He didn’t mean to say thanks, damn his ingrained politeness.

“It doesn’t matter,” the man said as though it should be obvious. 

“I kind of think it does,” Fitz argued looking up to study the guard more closely. No, he wasn’t a guard. No one would ever describe him like that. His build was too solid and his stance was wrong. A soldier. That was the only way to describe him. He was a soldier.

“Assets are not to be damaged, that includes damage inflicted from a refusal to eat, so, eat.”

Fitz flinched to hear himself referred to as an asset even though he knew that’s all Hydra thought of him as. “And if I refuse?”

“I’m authorized to make you,” the Soldier said. He shifted, letting the light strike the left side of his body, allowing Fitz to see his arm for the first time. He swallowed, it was made of metal. The man flexed his fingers and there was a whirring sound like hydraulics. Fitz didn’t want to imagine what he could do with that, even as he tried to imagine the mechanics behind it. The Soldier tilted his head towards the tray. “Though I’d rather not.”

Fitz sat down shakily. He was likely to have a lot of battles to fight in the coming days, he supposed refusing food was a waste of his energy in the long run. Still cradling his injured arm he pulled the tray closer to him and started to eat. The Soldier crossed his arms and shifted to stand half in the doorway.

“You’re just going to stand there and watch me?” Fitz asked uncomfortably after the second bite but the Soldier seemed content to be silent now that Fitz was doing as instructed. “I hope this isn’t some weird eating fetish thing on your part, that’s the last thing I need.”

The Soldier raised an eyebrow and Fitz was mildly proud that his mumbling made the man respond. “You’re logged with a level 1 intelligence. You’re not to be left alone with anything that could be used as a tool, so I stay until you’re finished.”

“I’m flattered that Hydra thinks I can break out of here with a bottle cap and a paper plate,” he scoffed while silently cursing. He had been hoping to keep the plate. A piece of paper folded eight times could withstand enough pressure to easily jam his cell door open.

The Soldier was silent. Fitz took another bite. The sandwich wasn’t very good. It was nothing like the ones Simmons made. He felt his chest tighten thinking of her. He hoped she was safe. The cells next to him were empty, he had to assume she was. If only he could say the same about himself. He looked at the Soldier and swallowed.

“Do you know what they’re going to do to me?”

The man didn’t look at him. He was looking down the hallway, focussed yet lost in thought. “No.”

Fitz suddenly felt his anger growing stronger than his fear for the first time and he raised his voice.

“Why do you do it, huh? Work for Hydra to destroy a good organization that only ever wanted to protect people? You’re terrorists and murderers, how can you live with yourself?”

The man looked at Fitz with his head tilted, as though confused by the question, almost like he didn’t understand what it was to have an option to not work for Hydra. 

Fitz suddenly became confused too because the light was striking the Soldier’s face differently now that he was straddling the open doorway, and Fitz recognized him.

Gaze sweeping down Fitz considered the bionic arm and the Soldier’s stoic responses, filled with none of the passion he heard when other Hydra agents spoke of their organization. His mind flashed to memories of Mike Peterson, a good man forged together with metal pieces, an unwilling weapon being forced to work for Hydra. Was that what this man was as well?

“What’s your name?” he asked without thinking, his anger ebbing away as curiosity overtook him.

The man turned back to the hallway. “I don’t have one.”

“Did you have one before you were ... this?”

The Soldier’s gaze narrowed. “Why?”

“You just look like someone I know. Well, I don’t know him, I’ve just seen pictures. You look familiar, I suppose I should have said. But it’s ... never mind, it’s stupid, you couldn’t be him, he died 70 years ago, fighting Hydra ... you couldn’t be him.”

The man’s gaze was penetrating him now, pushing and warning him at the same time. 

“He was a hero,” Fitz added, raising his chin.

“What was his name?”

“First Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the Howling Commandos,” Fitz said, the file memorized years ago when SHIELD found a red, white and blue relic in the ice. “His friends called him Bucky.”

Fitz could have sworn the Soldier’s breathing had sped up, yet he turned away, arms still crossed.

“Eat your food.”

Fitz finished his sandwich. The Soldier took everything away, never meeting his eye again and disappeared silently, locking the door behind him.

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|

It felt like another day passed before Fitz saw anyone again. He remembered Garrett saying that Hydra’s timeline had been bumped up. He wondered if their organization was in too much chaos to deal with him right now. Had they forgotten about him? And where was the team? Were they alive? Looking for him?

His arm ached, he couldn’t sleep on the concrete and he was always cold. Maybe they hadn’t forgotten about him, he thought miserably, maybe they just started the torture slowly.

The door at the end of the hall opened and the Soldier appeared again. Fitz wasn’t sure if he should start thinking of him as Bucky Barnes or not, it seemed too insane. The Soldier laid down the same meal as last time. Fitz had barely taken his first bite before he looked up to see the Soldier staring at him intently.

“What do you know about him?”

“Who? Bucky Barnes?”

One curt nod.

“Um ...” Fitz swallowed and thought back to the files he had scoured, his eidetic memory doing the rest. “He was from Brooklyn, born in 1920, conscripted in 1942. He and his unit were captured by Hydra in 1943. His rescue and the destruction of the Hydra base he was being held in was the very first mission of Captain America.”

“Captain America.” It wasn’t a question. It was more like the Soldier was tasting the words, trying to see if they fit in his mouth.

“Yeah, Captain America, Steve Rogers, he was Bucky Barnes’s best friend. He defied orders to rescue him, found him in a Hydra lab being experimented on.”

“What did they do to him?”

Fitz swallowed, mouth suddenly dry though he didn’t dare reach for his water under the Soldier’s intense stare.

“No one really knows. They thought Armin Zola, the Hydra scientist had been in charge but the lab blew up with the rest of the base so there was no way to know. Zola was eventually captured but I don’t think they ever asked him specifically what he’d done to him.”

“Why not?”

“Well, Bucky Barnes was dead.” The Soldier’s head tilted in confusion once more. “He died capturing Zola and saving Captain America’s life.”

The Soldier’s eyebrows creased. “He died.”

“Well ...” The Soldier looked up. “He fell off of a train down a Russian mountainside in the dead of winter. He was presumed dead.”

Confusion shifted to anger in an instant. “They never found his body. Presumed dead.”

The Soldier’s back straightened. His humanity melted away and he turned to look out into the hallway once more, impassive and cold like he’d been the day before. Fitz felt himself shiver and felt like he’d failed.

“What about you?” Fitz asked. “What do you know about Bucky Barnes?”

“I know I’m not him.”

TBC


	2. The Thorn

On the third day two sets of boots came down the hall, heavier, clunkier than the Soldier. Two armed guards appeared before Fitz’s door. They hadn’t forgotten about him after all.

“I don’t suppose you’re my new breakfast delivery men?” Fitz whispered harshly. 

The men laughed cruelly and hauled him to his feet. He suddenly yearned for the Soldier’s cold impassiveness. The guards dragged him down the hall, not caring when they pushed on his bad shoulder or when his bare feet stubbed against a hard doorway. After several turns they reached a room as cold and damp as his cell, except this one had a door, a conference table with Garrett seated at it and what looked like a car battery on a table nearby.

Fitz had to be pushed over the threshold and forced into the chair. 

Coulson is coming, he repeated mentally.

Garrett smiled and leaned back in his chair. “How’re you holding up son?”

Fitz stared at the table, not trusting his voice just yet.

“I understand, you’re mad at me, probably thought I was ignoring you. Nothing could be further from the truth. See, I didn’t want to come see you until I could give you my full, undivided attention, and I also wanted to give you a few days to think over what I’d said, I’m hoping we can avoid any unnecessary ...” Garrett’s gaze flitted over the battery. “...unpleasantness.”

“I won’t work for Hydra,” Fitz said, quiet but firm.

Garrett deflated. “All right, if that’s the way you want it.”

He stood up and Fitz knew he was going to call those men back in to strap him to the machine beside him. He didn’t want that to happen but he also refused to beg for mercy, so instead he said, “Can I ask you a question?”

Garrett’s face lit up. “Of course, that’s why I’m here. Think of me like your Hydra orientation officer. What do you want to know?”

“That man who’s been bringing me food, he’s a weapon, built by Hydra, surely you have better things for him to do than bring me sandwiches. Why?”

Sitting back down, Garrett leaned forward, seemingly pleased by the question. “Well to be honest I was hoping you might recognize him. Do you know who the Winter Soldier is, son?”

Fitz pulled away. “He’s a myth.”

“He’s as real as Hydra. Dozens of assassinations in Hydra’s name, shaping the world over the past century, phenomenal work really, a thing of beauty even if he did have some issues on his last assignment. A living, breathing weapon, devoted to Hydra. Now tell me, he didn’t look familiar did he, because he sure did when I met him?”

Fitz licked his lips. “He sort of looks like Bucky Barnes but ... that’s impossible.”

“SHIELD pulled Captain America alive out of a 70 year old block of ice, you don’t think Hydra could do the same?”

“So he is ...?”

“He is,” Garret smirked. “One of Hydra’s greatest enemies of all time, now its greatest weapon.”

Fitz’s shaking was now fear mixed with anger. “That’s why you have him bring me my food. You want me to learn from his example.”

“Everyone needs a mentor.”

“Except your enemy doesn’t work for you. That’s not Bucky Barnes anymore. I’m ... I’m still Leopold Fitz, and I won’t help you.”

Garrett sighed. The men came in and held Fitz down as he was strapped to the chair and fitted with electrodes. Garrett said a few thousand volts would give him something to think about. He was wrong. Fitz was unconscious ten minutes later. 

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

He was alone again and shivering in his corner when the Soldier arrived. It had been a few hours since he’d woken up in his cell, aching everywhere, ears ringing and chilled to the bone. Today it was plain toast instead of a sandwich. Thank god. He knew he would just throw up anything substantial. He took a bite and turned his head when he felt a tear tracking down his face.

He wanted to go home. How the hell had this happened? Why hadn’t the team come for him? Coulson had promised they would find him. So where were they? Were they even alive?

Fitz coughed and wiped at his eye discretely before he looked up. The Soldier was standing in his usual place, glancing down the hall.

“Do ... do you know if anyone’s alive?” Fitz asked. The Soldier didn’t speak but he looked at him as though he needed more information. “Anyone at SHIELD I mean? Anyone at all? Or has Hydra taken over everything?”

The Soldier thought it over then looked away. “I know Captain America’s alive.”

That hadn’t been what Fitz had expected. “How do you know that?”

“I saved his life.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

Fitz took another bite of his toast and thought that maybe he had been wrong. Maybe Bucky Barnes wasn’t dead after all. 

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

Fitz had gotten a few hours of restless sleep when the two guards returned the next day. He didn’t want to be tortured again and it took all of his strength to stop from shouting and begging for them to leave him alone and just let him go, but he stayed composed and kept his head held high as they took him away. He was glad he did as he found himself brought down a different hallway deeper into the base. He was marched by several labs all with Hydra scientists hard at work, some at equipment he recognized, others working with machines that were completely foreign to him. As they passed by one overly sterile white room he was amazed and terrified to see a weapon he had only read about, positioned close to the glass as though on display. He was so shocked he stopped walking, but one tug on his bad arm and he was moving along with a painful gasp.

He was brought to a room that was a little bigger than his cell but only because it had to house much more equipment. The entire back wall was taken up with what looked like a cryogenic chamber and beyond that was a bank of computers connected to a large chair with a headpiece made up entirely of restraints and electrodes. Fitz would have assumed the chair was for him except it already had an occupant.

“Agent Fitz,” Garrett greeted him with that same crocodile smile. “I believe you know the Winter Soldier.”

Fitz’s gaze ran over the Soldier sitting shirtless in the chair, looking more impassive than usual as he didn’t even turn to look at Fitz. 

“What am I doing here?” Fitz asked, in no mood for Garrett’s cheerful games.

“I just thought you might enjoy a change of scenery, a chance to get out of your cell, maybe do some harmless tinkering. Get a taste of what it would be like to do this the easy way.”

Fitz’s gaze narrowed, “I told you I’m not going to work for you.”

“This is barely work, just a few simple repairs.” Garrett snapped his fingers in the Soldier’s direction. “Sunshine, show him.”

The Soldier turned over his left arm so his palm was face up and then attempted to make a fist but the last two fingers would only curl halfway.

“He took a little damage is all.”

“And you need me to fix him?” Fitz asked incredulously.

“Of course not! We built that arm, we’ve repaired it plenty of times. I thought you might _want_ to fix him. This is your thing, go, be free, have fun.”

Fitz looked wary but took a step closer to the Soldier.

Garrett smiled triumphantly. “There you go. I hope I don’t have to warn you what will happen if you try to mess him up though.”

“I can imagine,” Fitz muttered. He spotted a scanning tablet on the table next to the Soldier and picked it up. Even if he refused to help Hydra he could still scan their technology and learn about it, at least then he would have something useful to report back to SHIELD with after all this.

As he figured out the tablet’s settings he looked around the small space filled with terrifying machines. The cryo chamber explained why the Soldier hadn’t aged much in 70 years and the chair was clearly for brainwashing. Dear God, how many times had he been forced into that horrible chair? And when had he stopped being Bucky and started being this thing instead?

“Is this where they keep you then?” he asked the Soldier as he scanned his arm, noticing a table full of tools on his other side. “Is this what I have to look forward to as one of those Hydra perks you keep telling me about?”

Leaned against the wall, Garrett was unfazed. “The accommodations ain’t much but the door’s not locked at night.”

“Yes, all I need to do is give up the free will to want to walk through it,” Fitz mumbled, quickly figuring out the scanner and looking over the results. The Soldier was still silent. Fitz looked over the scan, trying to avoid looking at the massive scar tissue and trauma marking the Soldier’s chest. The arm itself was impressive enough, though a few years old. It was functional, powerful, the most impressive part was the connections of the arm directly into his nervous system though, the part that let it function as quickly and responsively as a real arm. He wished Simmons was here to discuss the readings with, he knew she’d have a lot to say about what looked like a brutal way of connecting man and machine. 

Fitz found the problem easily, it was a simple fix that he had no intention of doing anything about. Then his eyes caught something else.

“The panelling underneath’s been bent,” he said, tapping a section of metal close to the Soldier’s shoulder. “It looks like it’s pinching a nerve cluster. Doesn’t it hurt?”

The Soldier only blinked. “It always hurts.”

“You’re here to be an engineer kid, not a doctor,” Garrett reminded him from the back of the room.

Fitz picked up a plasma torch. “Well today I can be both.”

It was a simple thing to remove the outer paneling but it was more difficult to tinker with the inner workings, especially with one arm practically useless from being dislocated days earlier. He picked up a precision magnet and hissed as he used it to pull the metal back into place.

“Almost got it,” he mumbled though the Soldier hadn’t moved or spoken since he started. Fitz tugged again. He could feel the panel slide back into its proper place at the same time he saw the Soldier’s body shudder and then relax the tiniest fraction. 

“Better?” Fitz asked, already knowing the answer.

The Soldier rotated his shoulder and nodded three times instead of just once like usual. There was at least one line of pain missing from his face and for the first time Fitz thought he looked young. 

The Soldier turned his hand over and tried to make a fist. The fingers still didn’t close. Fitz was packing away his tools.

“You forgetting something, kid?” Garrett asked.

“No. The rods in his wrist need to be replaced, any of your people can do it. What they apparently can’t do is realign paneling that’s clearly been unaligned for a few weeks. I fixed the part that was hurting him, I won’t help you make him a better weapon.”

“You know I was actually hoping you were going to make this easy,” Garrett sighed.

“No such luck.”

Garrett leaned out into the hallway and beckoned the two guards that had escorted Fitz down. “Take him back to the other room. Make sure he lasts longer than 10 minutes this time. I wanna hear him screaming from here.”

“Yes sir.”

Fitz tried to hide that he was shaking and shrugged off the guard’s hand that tried to direct him out of the room.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed but they just prodded him in the back with their weapons until he started moving. Before he disappeared Fitz turned around and saw the Soldier watching him. His left hand couldn’t close but his right fist was clenched tight. 

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

For the first time since he had arrived Fitz wasn’t alone when he woke up. Blinking his eyes open he found himself propped up in the corner of his cell, a warm hand shaking him awake while a metal one held a bottle of water to his lips.

“Drink it.”

He hurt everywhere but he was also thirsty. The water was gone too quickly and so was the Soldier who didn’t say anything else before he left. He hoped he came back with more water.

The next day Fitz was waterboarded for four hours. Garrett acted like it was a tedious task, pouring water down his throat until he blacked out, basically killing him over and over. Garrett alternated from that point on, between the electricity and the water. Fitz yearned for the electrocution sessions. It was more painful but he couldn’t feel himself dying every time they turned on the electricity. 

It felt like years later when he was back in his cell, shivering wet, coughing and shuddering with aftershocks, his mind a mess about what was happening and where he was. The Soldier was there, standing halfway in the room as always. He hadn’t tried to feed him water but he had brought him crackers. Fitz ate one, slowly.

“I’m not even sure why I’m saying no anymore,” he admitted quietly, not expecting a reply.

“Then why keep doing it?”

Fitz shrugged his good shoulder. “I’ve been saying it since I got here, so it must be important, it must be important that I say no even if I can’t remember why anymore. I won’t let them change that about me. I won’t be someone else just because I can’t remember. I’d rather die.”

The Soldier sighed. “It wouldn’t help.”


	3. The Lion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long dark chapter that ends in delightful hurt/comfort for both Bucky and Fitz. Oh, and Cap arrives!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING - I have added a warning for attempted non-con. It is very brief and very non-graphic and attempted only but be warned!

Footsteps in the hallway. Two sets. Clunky. Fitz closed his eyes and wondered if he could knock himself out against the concrete wall. 

The door slid open and the two guards stepped in. They didn’t even bother with their weapons today, but when was he ever really a threat?

He shook his head as they stood in front of him.

“I’m not getting up,” Fitz said, more exhausted than truly defiant. 

The guards laughed. It was different today. They shared a look like they were in on a joke. 

“That’s fine,” one man said and Fitz can’t remember him ever really talking before. “Agent Garrett’s authorized you be moved to Phase 2 of coercion efforts.”

“We love Phase 2,” the second man added. 

Fitz was confused on why he wouldn’t have to get up. They couldn’t be here to just beat him, Garrett had been choosing very specific torture methods that would inflict pain but not physically damage him badly, they needed him to work and think after all. A senseless beating would undermine all that.

He got his answer when the first guard grabbed him by the collar and pushed him facedown on the floor, pinning his hands and putting a knee on his neck to keep him down. 

“Ah! What are you doing? Get off me!”

“Wish it wasn’t so cold in here,” the guard on his neck mentioned, ignoring his cries.

“We’ll heat things up,” the second man said. Fitz heard a zipper being pulled.

“No. No, stop! Get off me! Please, let me go!” Fitz cried, bucking and struggling to get free. It was the first time he had begged. “Let me go!”

The guards laughed again. Fitz felt his legs kicked apart and hands on the waistband of his pants. He kicked and thought he connected but the man was solid muscle and shrugged off his efforts. 

“Let’s see how long you keep squirming for,” a voice whispered against his neck along with the weight of a body that was gone as soon as it had appeared followed by a thud and a crack. The knee on his neck vanished next and Fitz looked up as he scrambled backwards, tear-filled eyes seeing the first guard slumped in the corner below a dent in the concrete, his head caved in like a melon. Fitz’s eyes swept up in time to see and hear the second guard’s neck snap in the Soldier’s hands and fall bonelessly to the ground.

Fitz stumbled until he was against the back wall, panting and wiping at the tears on his face. 

The Soldier looked at him, long dark hair falling across his eyes before they moved to sweep over the guards. For the first time Fitz saw the Soldier assessing a situation, calculating his next move. 

Fitz just watched, shaking, as the Soldier silently dragged both dead men out of his cell and closed the door behind him. 

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

He had barely gotten himself composed when the Soldier returned again with more urgency in his step.

“I ... I ... thank you,” Fitz stuttered, not knowing what else to say.

The Soldier ignored his words and showed him a satellite phone. “Your team, can you contact them with this?”

Fitz stared at it like it was water in the desert. “Yes.”

“Then do it,” the Soldier said, holding it out to him.

Fitz reached for it but pulled back before touching it. “Hydra wouldn’t allow you to do this. How ... how do I know this isn’t a trick, to capture my team?”

“You don’t.”

“That’s not exactly reassuring. Then tell me how can you be helping me if they haven’t ordered you to?”

“Because ... assets are not to be damaged. They were going to damage you.” Fitz’s eyes lit up as he realized that the Soldier wasn’t defying his mission he was changing the parameters of it so he could help him. He would have been satisfied with that answer alone but the Soldier’s grip tightened on the phone and he looked away as he added, “And because Bucky Barnes would help you.”

“He already is,” Fitz said. Bucky gave him the phone. He opened up the back panel and pulled out the call monitoring circuits before he reset the frequencies. All SHIELD frequencies were unsafe, Hydra would know them all, be monitoring them all but it didn’t matter because Fitz didn’t need a SHIELD frequency. He had Simmons and they had their own private line that they’d established months ago, a number he had been holding on to like a lifeline. He dialled it now and took a deep breath.

“Here goes nothing,” he said meeting Bucky’s impassive gaze. “You could try to look a little excited.”

Bucky checked the hallway while the phone was ringing so he didn’t see the way Fitz’s whole body collapsed with relief when a shaky British voice picked up the line.

“H ... hello?”

“Jemma?” Fitz breathed.

“Fitz? Oh my god, Fitz, is it really you?” she gasped.

“Yeah, it’s really me. I never thought I’d hear your voice again.”

“W...where are you? We’ll come and get you. Are you okay?”

“I’m ...” he faltered, unable to lie and tell her he was fine. “I’m still in the Hydra base. I haven’t gotten free I’ve just gotten a radio.”

“Can you track his signal?” Fitz jumped at the new voice even though he recognized it as Coulson’s. Simmons must have put him on speakerphone for the team.

“Not getting anything yet,” Skye answered across the line.

“No, I ... I pulled the GPS and monitoring equipment out of the phone so Hydra won’t know we’re talking. I ... I’m underground, I don’t know where I am,” Fitz realized. He looked at Bucky who had been monitoring the hallway and conversation. “Do you know where we are?”

Bucky nodded and walked closer so his voice could be heard over the phone. “Latitude 55.86 degrees north, longitude 4.26 degrees west.”

“Fitz, who was that?” Coulson demanded even as he heard furious typing in the background.

“He’s a ... friend. It’s all right, he’s helping me.”

“Who is he?” Coulson repeated.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, sir,” Fitz said with a mirthless laugh.

“Fitz, I have to know we’re not walking into a Hydra trap, now tell me who’s helping you.”

Fitz held his breath until the Soldier nodded his consent.

“Bucky Barnes.”

“What? Bucky’s there? He’s with you?” This was another new voice that surprised Fitz as it sounded familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. Bucky’s eyes widened as well and he thought he knew who it might be. “Let me talk to him.”

“Is ... is this Captain America?” Fitz asked incredulously.

“Yes, nice to meet you Agent Fitz. Coulson and I both had good men being held by Hydra so we decided to work together to find them. Is Bucky there now? Can I talk to him?”

Fitz held out the phone but Bucky shook his head and took a step back.

“He’s ... not feeling too chatty actually, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I get it.”

“Fitz,” Coulson chimed in, taking charge, “are you safe? How long can you stay undetected?”

“Uh, pretty safe, I guess,” Fitz looked to Bucky again. “Not sure how long we have.”

“Those guards would have had orders to report to Garrett when they were done. Thirty minutes maximum if we stay here.”

Those numbers didn’t encourage Fitz. “How long until you get here by chance?”

“We’re already here,” Coulson said. “We found the base a few hours ago. We weren’t sure if you were there but the coordinates you just gave us match, we’ve been formulating our best plan of attack.”

“What are you thinking?” Bucky asked, speaking on his own for the first time, though it would make sense if he was programmed to strategize. 

“It’s between the north entrance or the east wall,” Cap said.

“Team?”

“Four ground, one in the air.”

“Take the east wall. It’s got more automated defences but less guards. There’s a hidden turret in each corner of the wall, have air support take them out before they fire on you. Once you’re over throw a gas grenade, there’s some hidden laser traps along the way you’ll want to see.”

“Sounds good. Where will you be?”

“We’re south right now, second level below ground, but I’m unarmed. I’ll have to head to the armoury. Once you breach, the alarms will go off, let them, I’ll use it as a distraction and push us east to rendezvous,” Bucky said, which Fitz translated as “I’ll shoot any Hydra goons in the backs while they’re running towards you” but kept his mouth shut. 

“All right. How long do you need to get to the armoury?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Breach in fifteen minutes, got it,” Cap agreed. “See ya then Buck.”

Bucky looked uncomfortable and nodded once before backing away into the hallway again. 

“Um, I think he just forgot how radios worked,” Fitz said. 

“It’s fine,” Coulson said. “Just stick with Bucky, Fitz, we’ll be there soon.”

“We have to go,” Bucky told him, appearing out of nowhere to throw a pair of boots in front of him. “Wrap it up.”

“Um, I have to go,” Fitz said, fumbling with the phone. “Just ... thank you, for finding me.”

“Thank me in person, we’ll see you soon,” Coulson promised.

“Yeah,” Fitz reached up to end the call but one more voice came through first.

“Just hold on Fitz,” Simmons whispered, “we’re coming for you.”

“I know. Bye Jemma.” If not for Bucky’s glare he might not have had the strength to end the call. He handed Bucky the phone and sat down to struggle into the first pair of shoes he’d get to wear in almost a week. 

“They smell terrible,” he muttered.

“You’re no field of daisies, kid,” Bucky muttered. Fitz might have been offended if he wasn’t so surprised to hear Bucky say something bordering on a joke, or at least a comment that showed a hint of personality. He wondered if it was a result of talking to Captain America. 

When he had the boots tied Bucky led the way to the door at the end of the hall. Fitz followed him but slowed when he caught sight of the two dead bodies thrown into the cell next to his, one clearly missing his shoes. Fitz’s toes curled uncomfortably at the realization but he shuffled along after Bucky who was waiting for him.

“I’ll pretend to be escorting you. Make sure you look scared,” Bucky instructed as he took a hold of Fitz’s uninjured arm.

“That really won’t be a problem,” Fitz said, letting himself be tugged along as Bucky opened the door and led him out. 

The halls looked busier than usual, armed Hydra soldiers and scientists passing them every few feet, but that may have just been Fitz’s panicked imagination. What wasn’t his imagination was the way almost everyone averted their gaze when they saw them. More specifically, when they saw the Winter Soldier. It seemed no one wanted to meet Bucky’s eye, like they were all terrified of engaging him. After seeing what he had done to the guards in his cell Fitz couldn’t blame them.

They travelled for about ten minutes down a winding set of corridors before they met resistance at a door Bucky stopped in front of guarded by two men.

“What’s he doing here?” one of the guards asked about Fitz, gripping his rifle reflexively.

“He’s with me,” Bucky replied, noting the two scientists moving out of earshot further down the hall.

“What are you doing here?”

Bucky was silent another moment until the hallway was clear, then he released Fitz’s arm as he pulled a knife from literally nowhere and snapped one man’s neck. In the same motion he stabbed the second man in the throat long before he could bring his rifle up to defend himself. Leaving the knife in he caught the body with his other hand then looked at Fitz.

“Punch 867454 into that keypad.”

Fitz did as instructed, looking down the hall nervously as the door slid open and Bucky pushed the dead man through it finally pulling his knife free, successfully avoiding spilling blood in the hallway. He grabbed the second corpse by the collar and dragged him inside as well. The door slid closed behind them and Fitz saw they were in a massively stocked armoury with walls of rifles, energy based weapons, grenades, rocket launchers and automatic weapons. 

Bucky didn’t even break stride; he strapped a rifle to his back, grabbed three handguns and looped a bandolier of grenades across his chest. Looking back at Fitz, he saw the smaller man was still standing in the doorway.

“You’ll need weapons.”

“I’m a scientist,” Fitz argued.

“So you can make weapons but you can’t fire one?” Bucky asked as he grabbed extra ammunition.

Fitz was stung by the remark until his eyes lit up on something familiar across the room. He picked up the perfectly balanced gun and checked that the cartridge was full. Nodding, he held it up to Bucky.

“Happy now?”

“What is that?” Bucky asked, unaccustomed to not recognizing weaponry.

“A scientist’s weapon. I call it an ICER, it knocks out instantly, no killing.”

They both looked up as the lighting in the room switched to red and an alarm started to sound.

“That’s our cue,” Bucky said. “Stay behind me. You can try to watch my back if you want but stay out of my way.”

“Got it.”

Bucky tore a grenade off his belt. “And you should also run.”

“What?”

Bucky pulled the pin and threw the explosive deep into the armoury. “Run!”

Fitz didn’t need to be told twice, scrambling away he slammed the button to open the door and raced into the hallway where the alarm blasted even louder. Bucky walked calmly out behind him, a Glock in each hand while Fitz huddled against a far wall. The hall was filled with men running in from both ends of the complex, all slowing when they saw the Winter Soldier standing in their way.

The armoury exploded with a deafening bang followed by a series of smaller explosions as the gunpowder in the weapons ignited, destroying everything that had been in the room. The men all flinched back and Fitz covered his ears as he realized the brilliance of Bucky’s plan; only unarmed men ran to the armoury when an alarm sounded.

Bucky opened fire, never flinching as he took out half a dozen men in each direction. 

When he was finished he looked down at Fitz who was pushed against a far wall shaking.

“Let’s go.”

Bucky started to lead the way but Fitz couldn’t move. The Soldier noticed and turned around. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Fitz shook his head and forced himself to his feet. “You’re just kind of terrifying.”

Again, Bucky never flinched. He walked away, leaving Fitz to follow behind him with shaky steps. 

It was almost grotesque the way they worked through the hallways, Bucky shooting unsuspecting Hydra agents who thought him an ally and Fitz icing a total of two who came up behind them. Fitz thought they were making good progress but had no idea how large the complex was or where Coulson and the others were. He was about to ask Bucky for the satellite phone back so he could contact them when the Soldier pushed him behind him and aimed his gun down the cross section of a hallway. 

“Drop your weapons or we’ll open fire!” 

Bucky didn’t comply but he didn’t shoot either, possibly because Fitz was pulling on the arm he was holding him back with.

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! Nobody shoot!” Fitz shouted, pushing past Bucky to stand between him and his team. He held up his hands and met Coulson’s eyes, a mix of relief and pleading. “He’s friendly. I mean ... he’s a friendly. He’s really not that friendly to be honest but he’s helping me.”

“Fitz,” Coulson sighed, lowering his weapon along with Ward and May who also slumped in relief. Coulson touched his earpiece and muttered, “Cap, you’re gonna want to get down here.”

“Good to see you,” Ward said to the engineer, earning a glare from Bucky when he patted Fitz on the shoulder.

“Alive and mostly well,” Fitz said, conscious of them assessing his various injuries and making a point to stand tall and appear unfazed.

“And you must be Bucky Barnes,” Coulson said, holding out a hand to introduce himself. “It’s an honor. I have your trading card.”

Bucky would have had to holster a weapon to shake hands, but Fitz didn’t think he would have been inclined to do so even if he was unarmed. Instead he asked Coulson, “What are your mission parameters?”

“Ours? Recover Fitz and copy any files Hydra has on site.” Coulson touched his earpiece again, clearly listening to someone on the other end. “Which I’m told we’re almost done.”

Footsteps down the hall made them all turn to see Captain America jog into view, panting like he’d just come from a fight. He raced down the hallway when he saw them. Bucky ignored them though Fitz thought he saw the Soldier’s jaw flinch.

“Your mission’s fulfilled. Take him and get of here, all of you,” Bucky said coldly.

“What are you going to do?” Coulson asked as Cap came to a stop beside him.

Bucky turned around to go back into the complex. “I’m going to burn this place to the ground.”

“You want some help?” Cap called out.

Bucky paused, breathing deeply for a few moments, before nodding once without turning around.

“You got it.” Cap started to jog after him but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Wait, Cap,” Fitz said.

“What is it?”

Fitz’s eyes went wide as he huffed out a breath. “Wow, you’re really Captain America.”

“I don’t really have time ...”

“No, it’s important, sorry. There’s a lab at the end of this floor with something you have to get. Hydra has Loki’s staff, the one from the Chitauri invasion, they’re studying it. You have to get it.”

Cap nodded and tried to follow Bucky again. “All right, I’ll try.”

“No, you don’t understand, the staff, I think it can help Bucky.”

Steve’s jaw set. “I’ll get it. Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Fitz nodded.

Steve looked at Coulson, “Get him safe. We’ll catch up with you.”

“You heard him,” Coulson turned to May and Ward who took up positions around Fitz, protecting him as they made their exit. 

Cap jogged after Bucky who had moved on without him, clearing hallways with deadly efficiency. As he came up behind him he noticed Bucky making a point not to look at him and decided now was not the time to push any of their issues and just be happy his friend wasn’t trying to kill him anymore. 

“Fitz said we should head to some lab on this floor.”

“We already are. It’s got the most equipment that explodes,” Bucky said.

“Great,” Steve said, throwing his shield to take out a guy at the end of the hall and catching it again. “Thank you, by the way, for helping him. Coulson said he’s a good kid.”

A man appeared at the end of the hallway touting an automatic weapon. Bucky shot him between the eyes then looked at Cap for the first time.

“I’m not him,” he said and Cap knew they weren’t talking about Fitz anymore.

“I know. But you were, and I think you could be again.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m with you til the end of the line.”

Steve could swear he saw Bucky roll his eyes just a fraction. “Punk.”

They found the lab shortly after that. Bucky made his way to a bank of computers in the main room while Steve ducked into the side labs, the scientists appearing to have long since cleared out during the carnage. He was looking for Loki’s staff but first he came across a room that had to be where they kept Bucky, complete with a cryo chamber at the back and what could only be a programming chair. Steve felt his blood boil at the physical evidence of what had been done to his friend and threw his shield at the machine, easily splicing the headpiece from the rest of the device. 

He didn’t feel any better when he stormed out of the room, even when he found the staff in a glass walled lab down the hall. He picked it up and ran back to find Bucky as he finished typing a sequence into a computer console.

Self Destruct Initiated - 5:00 flashed across the screen.

“Can’t someone just shut that off after we leave?” Steve asked. Bucky ripped out the keyboard with his bionic arm. The clock continued to countdown. “That works.”

They turned to leave at the same time another man was running in from across the room. Bucky brought up his gun but didn’t fire, his gaze narrowing when he recognized John Garrett who stopped in his tracks and glared to see his weapon standing amicably beside Captain America.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Protecting the asset,” Bucky replied but his voice was tight like he was struggling to justify his actions.

“Son of a bitch, you know they warned me you’d been acting up since this mission started. I guess I believed the legend was better than this.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched and Steve couldn’t understand why he didn’t kill the man like he had every other Hydra agent they’d come across.

“Can’t pull the trigger can you? Glad to see at least your no kill protocols for top brass are still working, even if the rest of you’s damaged beyond belief,” Garrett sneered, backing away triumphantly.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Cap said, pulling back to throw his shield, stopping just as Garrett put up his hands, one of them clutching a small remote.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Garrett sneered. “See, like I said, they told me you were acting up so I took some precautions.”

With no further warning Garrett pressed the button on the remote. Bucky cried out in pain, dropping his gun as he fell to his knees grasping at his metal arm.

“Buck! What did you do?” Cap demanded, torn from running to the Hydra agent or staying by Bucky’s side.

“Just a little obedience charge, except, oops,” Garrett dropped the remote and crushed it under his foot. “No way to turn it off now. You’ve got about three minutes before that charge builds up enough to kill him so, you can come after me, or you can drag him out of here.”

Bucky cried out again, still racked with agony from the electricity slowly killing him. Cap had to get him out of here and hope FitzSimmons could help him. Garrett smiled when he saw his decision had been made and started to run the other way. Cap pulled Bucky’s arm over his shoulder and pulled him to his feet, never looking back.

“Come on Buck, we gotta go,” he said. Bucky growled and twitched in pain but was thankfully able to get his feet moving a bit to help. Cap touched his earpiece to connect with the team. “Fitz, Simmons, you there?”

“Um ...” 

“Yes, we’re here,” Fitz answered, voice tight with pain.

“Fitz, lie back down!” Simmons ordered. 

“I need your help. Something’s wrong with Bucky. Garrett did something to him, said it was an electrical charge, I think it’s built into his arm, it’s killing him.”

“How high is the charge? Is he still awake?” Simmons asked.

“Yes, but Garrett said the charge is still building. He can barely move.”

“Hell it must be high, Bucky’s pain tolerance is incredible.” Wow, did Cap not want to know how Fitz knew that.

“I’m on my way back with him. What can I do? I could tear off the arm, it’s just metal.”

“No Cap don’t do that!” Fitz cried. “I saw the scans, the arm is built into his nervous system, if you tear if off you could paralyze him or cause brain damage, maybe kill him.”

Bucky screamed suddenly, more like a torn off gasp, indicating the charge had increased again. His feet stopped moving and he was slumping in Steve’s grasp.

“Bucky, stay with me! Just hold on!” Steve shouted, hefting him up higher and picking up his speed. “What can we do?”

There was silence on the other end for the longest moment of Steve’s life. 

“We ... we ...” Fitz muttered, clearly thinking. “The arm’s electronic, attached to his nervous system ... EMP! A localized EMP, we’ll short out the whole thing!”

“Except you’ll fry the Bus’s systems and we’ve got to get out of here before this place blows,” a new voice chimed in that Cap recognized as Skye.

“The interrogation room,” Simmons and Fitz said at the same time.

“We insulated it after I ... you know,” Simmons said.

“You nearly killed us all with your brain exploding?”

“Yes.”

“Will it work?!” Steve shouted, bearing all of Bucky’s weight now, able to feel each tremor of electricity passing through him.

“Yes, it will work, I hope,” Fitz said. “Simmons, grab that. I’ll need this and this. Skye, stay here, show Cap where we are when he gets here.”

Steve knew that all he could do now was get Bucky back to the Bus as soon as possible. He continued to run at top speed but took care of one more thing while he moved.

“Sam, you still in the air?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here until you and Barnes get out.”

“We’ll be fine. Watch the exits. Garrett got away.”

“You got it,” Sam said, not about to argue. 

“Hold on Buck, we’re almost there,” Steve whispered. As he dragged his friend along he could see Bucky’s eyes had lost focus and his breath was coming in short gasps. “He’s barely breathing guys.”

“As long as he still is that’s good,” Simmons replied.

“Cap, we’ve got your exit covered, head straight for the Bus,” Coulson said, chiming in, having obviously been listening.

“Thanks, I see the doors. We’re almost there.”

Steve broke through the doors and saw the Bus had landed closer, hangar door laid open for him to run up. Bullet fire sang around him but none came close and he knew it had to be Coulson and Ward watching his back. He ran up the ramp, Bucky limp in his grasp, to see Skye waiting for him.

“We’re onboard,” Cap said to the team over the commline. “We’ve got about a minute until self-destruct.”

“Follow me,” Skye said, leading Cap through the lab and up the steps to a steel room with black walls and a table where Fitz and Simmons were tinkering with some device about eight inches high. 

Simmons left Fitz’s side to check on Bucky who was still being held up in Steve’s grasp.

“Oh god he’s convulsing,” she said. “Lay him down, on his side so he won’t swallow his tongue.”

“Skye, seal us in so we don’t fry the ship,” Fitz ordered never looking up from his work. She sent one final concerned look around the room before she did as asked.

Meanwhile, Steve knelt behind Bucky’s back feeling helpless as his friend writhed in agony.

“Fitz!” he yelled.

“Almost there.”

“He stopped breathing,” Simmons whispered.

“No, Bucky no, come on!” Steve shouted slapping Bucky’s cheek, but his eyes were rolled back in his head and he offered no response.

“Fitz!” Simmons cried.

“Almost!” He wrapped the final two wires together and then put his hand on what looked like a button on the top of the machine. “Hope you don’t have a pacemaker, Cap.”

He pushed the button. Steve could feel something pass through the room like a light tingle. It had no affect on himself and FitzSimmons but Bucky’s body immediately went slack. 

“Buck?” Steve rolled him onto his back while Simmons put one hand on the Soldier’s neck and another on his chest.

“How is he?” Fitz asked. Steve only just noticed how heavily he was leaning against the table.

Simmons smiled. “He’s breathing. Heart rate’s not great, but it’s there. He’s alive.”

Steve sighed with relief. Fitz mumbled “thank God” before his legs gave out and he toppled to the ground, his own injuries and exhaustion overwhelming him.

“Fitz!” Simmons cried, rushing to his side.

The door opened and Skye looked around to see both the men they had been sent to retrieve unconscious on the floor.

“So are we going to mark this down as a successful rescue mission or ...?”

Steve looked down at Bucky and nodded. “Definitely.”

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

It's oddly delightful writing the SHIELD team with Cap and the others. Hope you guys enjoy it too.


	4. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! I lost a bit of a feel for the story so apologies for rushing events in the last part, I just wanted to get it all out so you folks weren’t left hanging.

Chapter 4

 

Bucky woke up on a small bed protruding from a wall in a black room. He blinked and turned his head to see Steve Rogers in a chair next to him reading something on a tablet.

 

Feeling Bucky’s gaze on him he looked up and smiled. “Hey, how you feeling?”

 

Bucky blinked, unsure what to say. No one had ever asked him that before. He tried to move his left arm and looked down when nothing happened.

 

“It’s deactivated,” Steve said. “Localized EMP, it was the only way to stop the electric charge from killing you.”

 

Bucky nodded, oddly pleased and laid his head back down to stare at the ceiling. “Good.”

 

Leaning forward, Steve tried to get in his line of sight but Bucky’s gaze didn’t move. “Hey, you didn’t tell me how you were feeling. You need anything? I can get Simmons, she’s a doctor.”

 

Bucky ached everywhere. Nothing new about that.

 

“You shouldn’t be here Steve.”

 

Steve couldn’t hide his gasp when he heard Bucky use his name. “I’m not going anywhere, pal, sorry.”

 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Bucky repeated, sounding frustrated that he wouldn’t listen and that he couldn’t articulate himself.

 

“Why won’t you look at me?”

 

“Because you’re my mission. I failed to terminate you but my orders were not rescinded,” Bucky said tightly.

 

“You think if you look at me you might kill me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you don’t want to kill me?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then look at me Buck.”

 

Bucky sighed and shifted his eyes. “I don’t want to kill you, doesn’t mean I won’t.”

 

“Like I said, I’m not going anywhere, but how about this, Fitz wanted to fix your arm but I’ll tell him to hold off. You’re good but I’m pretty sure I could take you if you’re one handed.”

 

Bucky considered it and nodded his approval, then his brow furrowed.

 

“The kid, is he okay?”

 

“Fitz, yeah, he’s fine, he’ll need some time but he’s got a good team here, they’ll take care of him.”

 

“Good.”

 

Steve’s eyes went soft and he smiled fondly. “He says you saved him.”

 

Bucky blinked. “No, not really.”

 

“Well that’s not how he tells it. Not how I tell it either after you fished me out of the Potomac. Do you ... do you know why you helped him?”

 

“I think ... because I remembered.”

 

“Remembered what?”

 

“Being saved from Hydra,” Bucky said looking at him briefly before dropping his eyes. “The first time.”

 

Steve’s heart clenched. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, the second time.”

 

Bucky laid down and looked at the ceiling. So was he.

 

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

 

The next time Bucky woke up he was alone but didn’t move from his bed. He lied awake staring at the ceiling until the door opened and Fitz walked in with a bashful smile.

 

“Hi,” he said. His right arm was in a sling and bruises were prominent along his face along with the slight hint of bandages peaking from under his shirt collar that were covering the electrical burns. He sat down in the chair Steve had been in earlier and held up the plate he was carrying triumphantly. “I brought you a sandwich. A much better sandwich than any of the ones you ever brought me, but I won’t hold that against you.”

 

Bucky surprised them both when he actually laughed for a moment and inclined his head to the side, indicating Fitz should leave it on the table.

 

“Of course, I won’t watch you eat yours. You can even keep the plate,” Fitz continued, swallowing and noticeably nervous.

 

“Are you ... all right?” Bucky asked.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, well, I’m getting there, but I’m back with my friends and not being tortured by Hydra anymore so I’m 1000% better than I was in any case. And that’s because of you. Thank you for that.”

 

Bucky nodded. He had no memory of ever being thanked before and didn’t know how to respond. He hoped Fitz didn’t ask how he was. He didn’t want to lie but his body was starting to hurt more and more, it was one of the reasons he didn’t get up.

 

“Steve said you saved me.”

 

“You saved me first, only seemed fair. Guess we’re even now.”

 

Fitz shifted uncomfortably after that and glanced at the door as though worried someone might walk in. Bucky’s head tilted.

 

“I ...” Fitz’s voice dropped to a whisper and he cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask you a favour, I now I don’t have any right but ... please don’t tell the others what happened ... what you saved me from.”

 

Understanding clicked in Bucky’s mind and he nodded again.

 

“Thank you,” Fitz said, deflating with relief. Bucky was surprised when he could detect the self loathing coming off of him.

 

“Should I also not mention how you defied Hydra at every turn and helped me at your own expense?”

 

Fitz blushed and looked at the floor. “Well, you could mention that if you want I suppose.”

 

“I will.”

 

“Thanks. I’ll let you eat your sandwich.”

 

In his office Coulson clicked off the monitor in Bucky’s room and wished there still existed a SHIELD he could report to on the extraordinary bravery of his agents.

 

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

 

At FitzSimmons’s request, Coulson and Steve met them in the lab. Their expressions were grim as they said they had to talk about Bucky.

 

Simmons had finished her analysis on his blood and physiology and the results weren’t encouraging.

 

“These are the results of Sergeant Barnes’s tox report,” she said, throwing the list up on the monitor.

 

“You can call him Bucky,” Steve interjected.

 

“As we have not been formally introduced, I am afraid I cannot,” she said with a polite smile.

 

“I know some of these drugs,” Coulson said, pointing at the last three on the list.

 

“They’re not uncommon. Painkillers, narcotic painkillers, a cocktail of them at an extremely high dosage, I imagine due to his body building up an immunity and his enhanced physical prowess. The other three are psychotropic drugs, meant to counter the effects of the painkillers, keeping him alert and focussed, but still obedient to their will.”

 

Steve shook his head, not wanting to hear any of this, but still had to ask, “What are the painkillers for? Battle?”

 

“Sort of, but more so he can function at all. Sergeant Barnes is in chronic pain, or at least he would be if he stopped receiving these treatments.” She pulled down the holographic list and replaced it with a scan of Bucky’s body where three areas were circled in bright red. “He has several very old injuries which have healed poorly. His mobility hasn’t been limited because the drugs are keeping him from actually feeling any pain but the signs are all there. Here you can see the cartilage in his left knee is completely worn away, the bones are grinding directly against each other. He has pins in his hip keeping the bone together but again with no cushion to insulate the metal, but worst of all is this prosthetic.” She zoomed in the scan to Bucky’s left arm. “The scar tissue around the arm is atrocious and don’t even get me started on the way it’s connected into his nervous system, pinching nerves, cutting off synapses. They practically shoved the thing onto him, it’s disgraceful.”

 

When she turned around and saw the crestfallen look on Steve’s face she deflated and looked apologetic for her bluntness.

 

“What can we do?” Steve asked already sounding defeated.

 

“We’ll wean him off the psychotropic drugs and that will help him function independently and recover his sense of self but then he’ll also be a disoriented mess from the painkillers. But there is good news.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“The injuries are treatable,” Fitz chimed in. “Hydra didn’t care about fixing him up properly as long as he could fight, and the painkillers would have made him unstoppable in hand to hand combat in any case. You could break his arm and he’d barely feel it. The good news is we can treat most of these injuries. The hip’s easy, the knee too if you can get a good surgeon. The arm’s trickier but only because he needs a new one. This one’s basically scrap after the EMP but that’s good because it means we can design him a new one and have it put in properly, clear out the scar tissue and connect it to his nervous system in a functioning manner. It will take time though and resources, neither of which we’re big on with SHIELD down.”

 

“I’ve got some friends I can call,” Steve said.

 

“ _Some_ friends?” Coulson parroted.

 

“ _A_ friend, I’ve got _a_ friend who can help. I’ll call Tony when we land.”

 

“Tony?” FitzSimmons both repeated.

 

“Tony Stark?” Fitz asked, eyes wide and gripping the table to stay upright.

 

“That’s the one,” Steve said, unable to hide his smirk. “You guys want to meet him?”

 

“Simmons do ... do we want to meet Tony Stark?” Fitz asked, gasping with his good arm waving about.

 

“Easy Fitz, breathe, breathe. It’s okay. We’re ready for this. Really Captain, he’s in no shape to handle this kind of excitement right now, what were you thinking. But yes, of course we want to meet Tony Stark.”

 

“Yes, breathe please, because I have one more question,” Steve said. Simmons now had a paper bag held up to Fitz’s lips but they both nodded that he should continue. “Why did you want me to get Loki’s staff? How can that help Bucky?”

 

FitzSimmons told him their idea, explained the logic and the science behind it. Steve nodded. It made sense. It could work.

 

“So do you want to try it?” Fitz asked.

 

“It doesn’t matter if I want to try it, it matters if Bucky does.”

 

“He’s not Bucky right now though, not really,” Fitz said.

 

“Hydra took his choices away from him, we can’t be like them. We tell him the same thing you told me and we let him decide what he wants to do.”

 

Coulson nodded his agreement, understanding more than anyone the necessity of letting a man make his own decisions with his life.

 

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

 

Steve entered the interrogation room they were using as Bucky’s room to find his friend sitting at the conference table, reading a tablet. He looked better than the last time Steve had visited him but he knew that was only because Simmons had given him more painkillers as he was in no state to be weaned off them yet. Steve sat down across from him and Bucky laid the tablet down which Steve saw was open to a file on the Howling Commandos.

 

“Remember anything?” Steve asked.

 

“Fragments, nothing concrete. This was the most familiar.” He changed the tabs to show a picture of Steve before the serum.

 

“Yeah, that makes sense. That’s how you knew me most of your life. You only knew Captain America for a little while in the grand scheme of things.”

 

Bucky looked at the picture again and nodded as though that all added up properly in his head.

 

“Listen Buck, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

 

Bucky recognized the serious tone and sat up straighter, staring straight ahead like he was awaiting mission details.

 

“We ... we think we figured out a way to help you, to help you remember who you were, completely.”

 

“We?” Bucky asked. “This the kid’s idea?”

 

Steve nodded, recognizing that Bucky trusted Steve, but so far the Winter Soldier only trusted Fitz. Realizing this, Steve looked up at the camera and tilted his head. The door to the room opened and Fitz walked in, Loki’s staff in his good hand.

 

“I’m 26, I’m not a kid, don’t know why I have to keep telling people that,” Fitz muttered, sitting down next to Steve.

 

“From what you guys tell me I’m about 95,” Bucky countered.

 

“Me too,” Steve added, smiling smugly.

 

“You’re both incorrigible,” Fitz muttered then looked at Bucky. “You want your memories back or not?”

 

Bucky’s tiny smile disappeared. “How?”

 

Steve left it to Fitz to explain.

 

“All right, do you know what this is?” he asked, laying the staff on the table in front of them.

 

“I know it’s a weapon of some kind that Hydra was studying.”

 

“It belonged to Loki, Asgardian alien, led the Chitauri invasion, tried to take over the world, amazing hair. Anyway, he used this staff to mind control people to help him.”

 

Bucky’s posture went defensive and Steve noticed him push back his chair an inch as though to run; he was suddenly happy Bucky had insisted his arm remain offline in case this went bad.

 

“No Bucky we’re not going to do that to you, I swear. We’re telling you this so you can choose what you want to do. Just ... just hear Fitz out, please.”

 

“It’ll be your choice,” Fitz promised, nodding encouragingly. Bucky took several deep breaths and then nodded for Fitz to continue.

 

“So, Loki used the staff to control people but we don’t think that’s all it can do. It works with a mix of magic and science at the whim of whoever’s using the staff. We think we can use it on you to restore your memories.”

 

Bucky still looked wary but licked his lips, thinking over what Fitz had said. “What happened to the people who he used it on?”

 

“They’re fine, all of them. We defeated Loki and the mind control wore off, they’re all themselves again,” Steve said. “One of them even got cured by a hit to the head.”

 

“So even if it works it won’t be permanent?” Bucky asked.

 

“Actually I think it would be. Mind control is something forced upon someone that the mind naturally rejects, kind of like how you’ve rejected Hydra in the last few days. But your mind wants to recover your memories, it’s already trying on its own, the staff’s power would just help rebuild them for you and then they’d be yours. You’d be Bucky Barnes again, or at the very least you’d remember who he was.”

 

“And you think this will work?”

 

Fitz nodded. “I do.”

 

Bucky looked at Steve. “Do you think I should do this?”

 

“It’s your choice Bucky. We’re not Hydra, we won’t force you, if you don’t want this, we don’t do it.”

 

Bucky blinked and looked down at the table where the tablet was still open to a picture of Steve when he weighed 90 pounds. The article said that man was his best friend, that Bucky had died to protect him and that it had been his choice. The Winter Soldier didn’t know how to make choices, but Bucky Barnes did. And he had made some good ones. History remembered him as a hero. That man, that man who died for others, he deserved to live.

 

“I want to be ... someone,” he said eventually. “Bucky Barnes seems as good a man as any. I’m willing to try.”

 

“Great, that’s great Bucky.”

 

Bucky clenched his fist unconsciously and looked between the two of them.

 

“So, what do we do?”

 

“According to the reports and a few tests Simmons and I ran on some lab animals (they’re all fine by the way) the staff needs physical contact with the subject and the staff bearer’s thoughts dictate what happens from there. So um you should probably stand up and come around here.” Fitz pulled out a scanning tablet and laid it on the table then picked up the staff while Bucky slowly walked around to stand in front of the two of them.

 

Steve stood as well, his eyes going wide when Fitz held out the staff to him.

 

“Me? You want me to do it?”

 

“Well yeah.”

 

“You’re the scientist,” Steve hissed.

 

“And you’re his best friend. I told you, the staff reacts to the one using it. No one wants Bucky to get his memories back more than you and you’re the only one who knows who Bucky really is, literally the only person alive I’d add, who knows what Bucky’s like, what he should remember, who he was. It has to be you.”

 

Steve bit his lip and eventually accepted the staff reluctantly while Fitz picked his tablet back up.

 

“It’s easy, touch it against his chest and tell the staff to make him remember who he is.”

 

“Just that easy,” Steve mumbled taking a step forward to stand in front of Bucky. “You still okay with this?”

 

Bucky was finding it hard to form an opinion on the matter and hoped the staff might change that.

 

“Do it.”

 

“All right, here goes.” He leaned the staff forward so it touched Bucky’s chest and focussed all his desperation into one thought, the only wish Steve had in the world. “Remember who you are, Bucky.”

 

The end of the staff glowed blue and Steve could see the energy as it travelled up Bucky’s skin and directly into his brain. Then he was screaming.

 

Bucky collapsed forward, falling to his knees and clutching his head.

 

“Bucky!” Steve yelled, throwing the staff away. He was about to rush forward but Fitz’s hand on his arm stopped him.

 

“No, leave him.”

 

“What’s wrong with him? He’s in agony!” Steve shouted.

 

Fitz tapped his tablet bringing up a real time brain scan. “Oh my god.”

 

Peering over his shoulder Steve just saw colors changing. “What does it mean? Is he okay?”

 

“His ... his neural pathways are rewriting themselves. They’re literally shifting, changing. I think ... I just expected his memories to piece back together but this is different. I think the staff is actually changing his mind back into the old Bucky Barnes.”

 

Bucky had his forehead against the floor, gasping more than screaming now as the change continued. Steve stayed back with Fitz, watching on the monitor as the shift of colors slowed and finalized at the same moment that the tension left Bucky’s body, leaving him collapsed on the floor.

 

“Buck? Bucky?” Steve said, moving to his side and rolling him over.

 

Bucky’s eyes were rolled back but he jerked awake quickly, staring at Steve for a moment before looking around the room.

 

“Steve? Holy hell, where ... are we still on the train? What are you wearing?”

 

Steve’s mouth dropped open and he couldn’t reply. Bucky continued to look around, his brow furrowing in confusion when he saw they weren’t alone.

 

“Fitz?” Bucky asked, saying his name slowly with no recognition, instead more like a child repeating a word he’d just learned.

 

“Uh yeah, hi Bucky,” Fitz said, waving awkwardly.

 

Bucky tried to sit up and looked over to see why his left arm didn’t move, finding only a dead metal weight where his arm had been. His breathing became heavier and his eyes glistened with tears as he looked at Steve.

 

“Steve, what’s going on? I thought I had a bad dream but ... I think it might have been real and I’m kind of freaking out here.”

 

Steve ignored his questions and lunged forward, pulling Bucky into a tight hug. He felt like an asshole but didn’t care. Bucky was alive and he was Bucky again, his Bucky, a part of his life he had thought he’d lost forever. Steve knew he had a lot of explaining to do, but as he held Bucky in his arms and felt his best friend’s wrap around him in return, he couldn’t seem to care.

 

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

 

Some long explanations and a wide array of tests from both Fitz and Simmons eventually declared Bucky was as much of himself as he would ever be. After explaining what happened Steve questioned him on events, dates, private memories that wouldn’t be in any file. Bucky remembered them all, even providing details that Steve had forgotten.

 

That didn’t make him completely Bucky though, parts of the Winter Soldier still lingered, and not just his nagging injuries. Bucky remembered everything the soldier remembered but explained that none of it felt like memories that had happened to him. It felt more like a movie he had watched, just images and scenes that he felt no emotional connection to. It didn’t feel like things he had done, it just felt like things he knew for some reason. And that was fine with Steve and it was fine with Bucky as well, though he would have preferred no memories at all after they explained what had happened to him.

 

They landed in New York and Steve took FitzSimmons with him when they drove to Avengers Tower where Tony was waiting with a newly designed bionic arm and a team of the world’s best surgeons to implant it. Steve had worried the two young scientists might annoy Tony but he underestimated how much Tony loved hearing how smart other smart people thought he was and took the scientists under his wing, welcoming their help in making some modifications to the final arm designs. Fitz almost passed out and Steve was pretty sure Simmons popped a blood vessel from excitement. He was just happy the attention was off Bucky who was trying to stay out of the spotlight after finding out he was stuck in the future, almost everyone he knew was dead and Hydra had been using him as an assassin for 70 years. Steve could relate to the confusion and they talked for long hours about how the world had changed. Steve caught him up on some events, but Bucky had flashes of memory from each decade as the Winter Soldier and was even able to tell Steve some things he knew from personal experience, like, “Hippies were weird.”

 

“They call them hipsters now,” Steve added.

 

The new arm was installed the next day. It was strange to say that Bucky felt lighter with it on, more complete. In the gym he found out he had retained the Winter Soldier’s muscle memory, executing take-downs and fighting moves he had never known as a Howling Commando, as well as a wealth of knife skills and gun knowledge. He could also speak at least four languages that he had found so far, which was strange, but useful.

 

But the most important things were his memories, all of his memories. He had been a good man as Bucky Barnes, and he had been a good weapon as the Winter Soldier, now he had to be both somehow, he had to make amends for what he had done. And he thought he knew just how to do it.

 

After his arm, body and mind passed the final physical checks he and Steve visited Coulson and his team, who gladly gave Bucky the floor when he asked to speak, Steve standing behind him in support.

 

“I owe you all a lot and I wanted to say thanks, for helping me become myself again, in both body and mind and I want you to know that I’m not gonna waste this ... this second chance. Third, I don’t know. I’m going to make it count. Anyway, Hydra did this to me, made me a weapon, and they’re still out there but they made one big mistake, they made a weapon that’s about to backfire because I know everything the Winter Soldier knew. I know what Hydra’s done,” he looked at Fitz pointedly, “I know what Garrett’s done, I know who they are and I know where they’re hiding, and I intend to hunt them down and destroy every last one of them. The Winter Soldier worked alone, but Bucky Barnes worked best on a team and I’d like to keep that tradition alive, on this team, if you’re interested.”

 

Coulson shared a look with his team who each nodded in turn.

 

“When do we start?”

 

The end.

 

Hope you enjoyed! Glad I was able to sneak one more whump in there. That one was for me. If you want to come and talk about Bucky Barnes [on Tumblr I'm right here](http://00qtea.tumblr.com/)!


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